


Sad Blue Eyes

by Mcwarr



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Homeless, Angst, Businessman Harry, Endgame Niall Horan/Harry Styles, Fluff, Homeless Niall, Homelessness, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, M/M, Narry - Freeform, Older Harry, Younger Niall, slight Ziall, ziall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 12:05:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6984409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mcwarr/pseuds/Mcwarr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“To the rest of the world, Harry had no qualms with being an absolute asshole but when it came to Niall, all bets were off.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sad Blue Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> narrystoranwritings.tumblr.com

Harry wasn’t a caring man.

He wasn’t the type to hold doors open for others or give extraordinary tips to his waiters. Harry was a relatively busy man, spending the majority of his time keeping his company in check. He was relatively young for a CEO, yet none could really tell by the way he carried himself. Tense shoulders and evil glare are constant features that Harry holds, so he’s maybe not the most approachable person in London, but that doesn’t mean he’s evil.

He’s been accused of it before. Scorned lovers and enraged ex-employees alike have screamed several obscenities to him several times before, making their negative opinions of him quite clear. 

Anyway, despite the copious amount of people that absolutely loathed Harry and deemed him as a selfish, good-for-nothing prude that had way too much money and way too little respect for the life he lived. 

They were wrong, for what it’s worth. Having grown up in a poor family and built himself up completely on his own (with a lot of help from his mother), Harry knew how lucky he was to be where he was. He wasn’t nearly as stuck-up as people thought. 

For example, unlike most of London’s elite, Harry understood early on that the sacrifice of terrible traffic of London for the “look” of importance was not worth it. No, anyone who actually lived in London knew that the fastest way around the city was the tube, so that’s what Harry used, no matter the odd looks he got when he and his Armani-suit clad self rushes onto the tube. 

That’s how Harry met Niall.

It started as a simple glance- a random meeting of eyes that should’ve been brushed off with a simple shrug. Green clashed with blue, and Harry stopped in his tracks. The big, sad blue eyes that were staring back at him wavered, but didn’t stick, looking away relatively quickly. Harry had let his eyes roam for a just a moment, scrutinizing the boy with blonde hair that darkens considerably at the root, freckles dotting across his face, and ratty old clothes that held testament to why the teenage-looking boy was sitting on the subway floor. 

Harry’s heart got a bit heavier, but he continued on his way home. 

It became a commonality for Harry to see the boy on his way home from work. He was always sat in the same place against the same pillar in the same station. It’s a nice station, so Harry understands. Not only was the station cleaner than most, but it was also a lot safer, which, for some reason, put Harry at ease. 

Somehow, their eyes always found each other. Until the day came that the blonde wasn’t there.

It had left Harry unsettled for the rest of the day, twitchy fingers and all, for a reason he couldn’t really understand. He shouldn’t care about the fact that he didn’t see a random boy in the tube station. He really shouldn’t have but he did.

The blonde boy doesn’t return for 3 more days. It was agonizing, waiting for him to reappear. 

It’s much like the first time they met, with Harry stopping in the middle of the crowded subway in an instant. It’s like the sad, blue eyed boy was waiting for him, as he’s already staring at Harry when the brunette glances over to him. 

Harry was excited, extremely excited, but there was something else that was bothering him. Specifically, the muddied gash running along the blonde boy’s left cheek. It was bright and painful looking and Harry feels his hands begin to shake.

And that’s what makes Harry, despite the fact that he had a terrible day and all he wanted to do prior to seeing the boy was to go straight to bed, make the decision to walk straight over to the blonde. The boy looks surprised, and maybe a tad scared, but that doesn’t stop Harry from squatting down next to him. It’s awkwardly silent for a second, even though the station behind them is still loudly bustling. 

“Hey,” Harry says lamely, unsure of exactly what to do with 

“You’ve cut your hair.” The boy responds with a tilt of the head and a small grin and Harry is shocked by many things. First off, the blonde was Irish. Second, he noticed Harry just as much as Harry noticed him. And finally, Harry may just have fallen for that smile. 

Harry nods because, yeah, two days ago he had gone from flowing locks to a shorter, “more professional” look. 

“You’ve cut your cheek.” He returns, unable to contain himself from reaching out towards the boy. The Irish boy flinches a bit but allows it, sighing lightly. “I’m Harry.” The brunette says.

The blonde smiles, “I’m Niall.” 

And that’s where it all begins.

* * * * 

They meet regularly. Sometimes just in passing in the subway, but usually Harry will end up dragging the blonde up into the above-ground to eat something. Whenever he can, Harry takes the chance to feed the lad. When he’s busy, he drops off a doggie-bag, claiming he got “too much” at his own lunch, but he rather likes the lunches where he can actually take Niall out. They don’t talk about Niall’s apparent homelessness, nor do they talk about any aspect of his past, but they talk about everything else. It’s mostly about Harry. 

Niall loves to hear about his sister, his mother, and his (few) friends. Sometimes, usually when they’re eating at grubby fast-food type restaurants that Harry hates but deals with it because its Niall’s favorite, Niall will share little bits and pieces of his life. They’re often little snapshots of his life in Ireland, about his brother and how he’s got a nephew, somewhere out there. The stories never seem to mention how Niall got to London, nor why Niall can’t just call his brother for help but Harry can never find the courage to ask. 

And feelings grow. 

It’s terrifying for Harry as he’s never been the type to catch feelings so quickly. He’s used to being the heartbreaker, the one that could care less when a relationship ended. He was attached to someone that is virtually un-attachable, someone who could easily slip away from him during his work hours. 

So, in an ever-so-effective way of getting over his infatuation, Harry stops pining so much and rather hits up high-class bars and clubs and eventually one night he gets so pissed that he actually brings someone home. 

It’s a bird, shorter than him but still average height. She’s got dirty blonde hair with darker roots reminiscent of a certain someone but her eyes are all wrong. Brown-green and not at all the blue that Harry’s craving, but there was something tugged at his drunken mind telling him that she’d do. 

He’s not sure if he actually sees Niall that night. It’s much later than Harry’s ever been in the tube, but he had always assumed that Niall slept here. He thinks he remembers seeing the flash of electric light blue pass by his eyes, but by the time the “couple” reached the blonde’s usual pillar, any trace that might have been there was gone. 

That’s the second time that Niall disappears.

This time it’s only two days and Harry sags in relief when he sees him, leaning against the pillar and looking relatively normal, like a normal boy waiting for a train. He’s got small earbuds stuck in his ears and he’s tapping on a phone that Harry knows is well above what the blonde (who was basically living off of the daily meals Harry buys him just a week ago) can afford. His clothes have changed as well, different from his usual, torn light blue skinnies and white long-sleeved tee that was ten sizes too big. Now he’s wearing black skinnies and a dark green tee shirt that’s only about two sizes too big for him. Harry stands in front of him with a confused look on his face until the blonde resurfaces, and gives Harry a confused look right back. 

“Alright, Harry?” He says, almost like a question and Harry just shrugs his shoulders. 

“Where’ve you been the past few days?” He asks, “Missed you.” He adds deliberately. 

Niall’s somewhat standoffish stature deflates at that and he opens his arms, initiating the hugging process which had started only a couple of days after the two of them properly met. Harry hugs him closely and inhales deeply. He smells good.

Harry backs off slowly after that. 

Niall hasn’t “smelt good” since the day Harry met him. 

It’s why Harry had offered, several times, for Niall to go to his house to at least take a shower and/or take a nap. Anything, Harry had offered, but Niall always refused, using excuses of not wanting to be too much of a bother, or being “busy.” None of which Harry actually believed, but the brunette always made a point of not being too pushy or demanding of the blonde.

To the rest of the world, Harry had no qualms with being an absolute asshole but when it came to Niall, all bets were off. 

“So, where were you?” Harry asks and Niall regains that hard look in his eyes. 

He shrugs. “I was with an old friend of mine.” He answers vaguely. 

Niall wasn’t necessarily lying. Zayn had been his friend ever since he moved to London. The first person to ever talk to the sad, stuttering freak from Ireland. He had been sure to warn Niall of the dangers of the streets. He had also been sure to give Niall a good idea of how the blonde was to get things when he needed them. Whenever Niall was drowning, on the edge of death or loneliness, he could go to Zayn. Go to see Zayn and do whatever the tall, dark, and handsome man wanted him to do and in return, he’d get clothes, food, shelter. 

Niall wasn’t dumb. He knew what Zayn called “payment” is what others called “prostitution” but sometimes, especially on the streets, it’s best to act like you don’t know what’s going on. Either way, Zayn likes when Niall acts all innocent, so that’s what Niall does. 

Apparently, this time Niall had been a really good boy. 

“Yeah?” Harry says, sounding puzzled and maybe a little bit annoyed and Niall wants to kick himself. He’s ruining it.

Shaking his head, Niall shrugs once more, wound still stinging from a few days ago– still angry at Harry for something he wasn’t in control of. It wasn’t the brunette’s fault that he didn’t like the sad, homeless freak the way the freak liked him. “Yeah, my mate Zayn.” He replies cooly, like he’s some kind of regular kid.

“Did you guys.. _have fun_?” He asks, emphasizing the sentence in a screwed way and Niall’s eyes narrow considerably. He crosses his arms, walls building as he furrows his eyebrows. 

“Did you and that chick the other night _have fun_?” The blonde asks, completely aware of how petty and jealous he sounds. 

Harry’s eyes widen at that and he drops his shoulders. “Honestly? No. I was busy thinking about someone else.” He says, staring Niall straight in the eyes as he says so. Niall’s mouth drops open as his eyes widen. 

There’s no words said between them but it’s all too clear. Harry’s hands find themselves dug under the new shirt, itching to rip off the offending fabric and replace it with a shirt of his own. Niall’s eyes flutter shut and he tangles his fingers into the slowly growing curls on the back of Harry’s neck just as their lips meet. It’s soft and kindergarten at first, innocent and testing. They pause just like they do in the movies, like there was some kind of invisible spark that was only able to be summarized by the people actually feeling it. Then Harry forces their lips back together, completely disregarding the crowds of people scoffing and rolling their eyes at the obvious PDA happening right in front of them. 

Harry can’t make himself care. 

Until he does.

“Prostitute” is the first word that pops into his head. Not what he thinks of Niall, of course not, but what others would. “Gold-digger” and “whore” would be words of child’s play by the time the tabloids got around to reporting about CEO Harry Styles’ new “boy toy.” Harry would be deemed a sugar daddy before his 30th birthday and his company would definitely feel the malice of the world’s heat. He’s never been secretive about his sexuality, but Harry knows that fighting words would be instituted the second the world figured out about his new, homeless boyfriend. 

He wasn’t afraid for himself. Maybe he was a tad bit worried for his company but mostly, he was worried for Niall. There’s no way of knowing how he got to where he was in life. 19 years old and alone on the streets, not a penny to his name nor a diploma for his education. Harry wasn’t about to put Niall through another bout of hatred. 

“Niall, Niall wait. Please. We can’t.” He gasps, pulling away from the blonde who stares at him in lustful confusion. 

“Oh,” He pants softly and Harry’s in love with the glint in his eyes, the blush on his cheeks, “Do you wanna go back to yours?” He asks and Harry’s eyes close as he shakes his head. 

“ _We can’t._ ” He reiterates and he knows Niall understands. The blonde is by no means stupid and Harry can tell by the way his body stills and the way his arms instantly fall to his side and how his eyes immediately fill with what Harry can only define as pure rejection. 

Niall backs away, sideways from his pillar, sadness filling his eyes as Harry flounders to find an excuse. “Please, Ni, let me just-” He tries, reaching for his wallet and Niall’s face screws up in disgust. 

“Fuck you and your charity.” He spits, and Harry shouldn’t be shocked by the language but he is, so much that he instantly stops everything and instead watches as Niall grabs the grimy backpack that he’s had forever and tugs it onto his back. 

And the people are watching, some with sympathy others in humor, all disperse and Harry’s left alone.

* * * *

So Niall goes to the only place he knows where to go. 

Zayn welcomes him back with open arms, introduces him to a couple of his friends and Niall sits with Zayn’s arm around his waist as the rest of the group smokes weed. 

He feels awkward and tired and all he wants to do is sleep and cry while someone hugs him but that’s not what Zayn does. Sure, Zayn will be affectionate but in the feral way, with rough kisses to the throat and calloused hands grabbing everywhere. Not the affection that Niall needs right now. Niall doesn’t want to be awake anymore, not when he keeps envisioning how different this situation could be if Harry hadn’t pulled away earlier. How they could be in Harry’s flat or in the subway’s bathroom or even in the god damn streets and how gentle and soft and loving Harry would be. 

He holds back the tears and gratefully takes the bottle that some random person hands him, chugging just like Zayn taught him all those years ago. He grins lazily later on as Zayn praises him, “That’s my boy!” and kisses him hard. Drunk, he can pretend that it’s Harry all night and he probably won’t notice much of the difference. At least, that’s what he blames it on when he allows Zayn to pull him into the back room.

The next few weeks are quite the same. Niall stays with Zayn and lives the life he did 2 years ago when he first came to London. Zayn is high almost all of the time but Niall likes him a little bit better then. When sober, Zayn likes to interrogate Niall about his past. This way, all Zayn wants to do is eat, cuddle, and fuck. It’s not ideal, and Niall finds himself often wondering about Harry, missing the butterflies he felt every time Harry even looked at him 

Three weeks later, he sees Harry. 

It’s weird. He was so used to seeing Harry everyday that his features have become foreign. His eyes look sharper, more slanted and green. His arms are slightly smaller yet more defined and his hair is definitely somewhat longer. Niall wants to run over to him and apologize, hug it out and try to really understand why Harry pushed him away, but he’s with his new group. 

By group, he means he’s been hanging out with Zayn and his little crew of friends while they skate on station railings and smoke way too much, just begging to get caught and feel the thrill of running from the cops. Niall doesn’t like it and he remembers that this, among other reasons, is why he left in the first place.

“I remember when you used to think about me as much as you think about him.” Zayn voices and Niall jumps. He sounds sober, which could be true seeing as the last time Niall saw a joint in his mouth was at 11 that morning. “I remember when you were _in love_ with me like that.” He slurs and Niall rolls his eyes, pushing Zayn off of his back where he’s hanging. Maybe it’s true, maybe Niall was a little bit more than half-way in love with his pseudo-savior and sexual guide, but that was only a bit before Niall realized that Zayn was not boyfriend-material.

“Get over yourself you twat.” He says lightly, adding a giggle that makes Zayn peck his nose. Niall shivers and he knows Harry’s watching. It’s weird how he knows without even seeing the guy, but he’s been able to feel Harry’s stare since the day they met. 

He glances over as well to see Harry’s eyes, blazing and furious as he looks between Niall and Zayn. He’s across the way, not far across the street, and Niall can see him begin to make his way over to the group. 

“I think..” Niall begins slowly, privately to Zayn as the hazel-eyed man stares across Niall’s shoulder. “That I’m gonna be leaving you, Zaynie.” He says with a genuinely sad edge to his voice. 

“I thought I was your sugar daddy, Ni!” Zayn calls loudly, and Niall doesn’t have to be looking at Harry to know he flinched. “Jokes, babe.” He murmurs, hugging Niall tightly before releasing him.

Niall looks back at Harry, who’s been coming closer and closer with every second, but he can’t help but give Zayn a sad look. Zayn simply smirks, as if he doesn’t believe Niall. “Go off to your sugar daddy. I’ll see you soon, Niall,” Zayn says, like a promise, and despite how much Niall may love Zayn, he hopes the man is wrong. 

He turns quickly on his heel and goes to meet Harry halfway, pulling him away from the group that’s now avidly staring at them and around the corner. 

“What are you doing here?” Niall asks quickly as they walk down the road. 

Harry gives him a bewildered look. “Hello to you too, Niall, yeah, I’ve missed you as well!” He blabs and Niall attempts to hide his smile. 

“Harry…” He sighs, and the brunette looks down at him. “Why did you push me away?” He asks timidly, big sad eyes back in full action and Harry takes a minute to breathe. 

Then he blurts, “I love you.” 

Niall’s eyes turn from sad and confused to.. just confused. Then happy. Then, “I love you too. But, that doesn’t answer my question.”

Harry, trying to keep himself from being stunned into silence from Niall’s quick agreement to his statement. “I, uh. I’m a guy who works in a big company.” He says shakily. “A big company.”

“And… you’re not out?” Niall asks, nose scrunched and eyebrows furrowed in the way he always does.

“No, I’m out, it’s just… I kind of own the company.” He says, “And I was worried about how the press would treat you. I don’t know what kind of past you’ve had… we’ve never exactly gotten around to talking about it, but… I don’t want to put you through anymore pain, Niall.” Harry says, face unwavering. 

Niall’s face breaks out into a small smile. “Maybe we can talk about my past later.” He says softly, offering something he’s never offered to anyone else since his time in London began– honesty. 

Harry grins right back, once again unable to keep himself from touching his boy, cupping his cold cheeks gently. “I’d like that.” He says, and leans in, shoulders going lax as Niall loops his arms around them. And in an instant, like two magnets drawn together, they’re back where they should’ve been three weeks ago, snogging like the world was about to end. 

They stay like that, up against the brick wall of a nice looking bakery before the awkward coughs of passerby’s become too much and Niall pulls away.

“Do you wanna go back to yours?” He asks hesitantly, and Harry chuckles deeply, digging his nose into the crook of Niall’s neck.

“Let’s call it _ours_ from now on, yeah?” Harry mutters sweetly and promptly kisses the blonde before he can begin arguing.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry if this is shitty haha..I’ve recently had a bad few weeks, for several different reasons and I can’t promise that things will be getting any better, but I can say that writing this really made me happy, for what its worth. It kind of reminded me why I like to write these things in the first place, so thank you for reading and giving me the platform to share these things because I truly so appreciate it. Thanks so much for reading and please leave a comment!


End file.
